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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 5:55am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Posting whole song lyrics

I was going to post this as a response to Ashes' LL/S thread below but I don’t want him to feel that I’ve singled him out. I’m actually in agreement with T&S on this one.

I really can’t understand why people feel it necessary to cut and paste whole song lyrics. If you want to draw attention to a particular song it’s enough to give the title of the song and why you think it deserves more attention that it’s been getting. Interested Dead scholars can perfectly easily find the lyrics if they want to. Provide a link if you want to make life easier. If you want to highlight a particular performance of the song provide a link to that too if you can.

Rather than post up a whole song to illustrate a point post selected extracts – it’s much more effective. If it’s a non-Dead song give a title, band, author or whatever. You can’t expect us all to share your interests and knowledge.

Posting a whole song sometimes smacks of presenting the scripture for the day. As if we’re all going to sit down quietly and read it reverently and ponder its meaning. Well, not me. I skip them every time. And I’m betting I’m not alone.

Ok – I’ve said my piece. Flame on, brothers and sisters

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Poster: swamprabbit Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:03am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

As long as it pertains (even loosely) to the Grateful Dead and your posts treat others with respect - I say post anything you damn well please! I for one have never actually sat down and read the lyrics for many of the Dead's tunes.

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Poster: blacklakelight Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:03am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I skip 'em too, but can't say people posting lyrics really bothers me. I also skip the football posts,but more power to those who want to talk football.There's always going to be some thing that's not your thing. And lest it be assumed I'm all loaves and fishes, let me say that feeding trolls annoys total shit out me, because it fouls up the whole place.

Edit: "your thing" meaning folks in general, not singling out rtwordsmith.

This post was modified by blacklakelight on 2007-12-11 16:03:23

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:59am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

"I'm all loaves and fishes"

Too funny.

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:40am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: songs yes, writing, perhaps not...

Gadzooks! You guys are scaring me...I find myself reading Hunter's lyrics again and again. I sorta figured that everybody here did that sort of whacko thing--that this was a place that focused on repetition and redundancy, with all of us listening to (and reading--maybe that's where I went wrong?) this stuff over and over and over again, finding new meaning, etc., etc., etc.

But, fair enough--you learn something everyday. As Rob says above, just posting to see what folks think about it.

And I suppose if this keeps up, he had a point--if most folks respond by saying they "skip it" then I suppose Ashes and I should just stop doing it.

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Poster: barongsong Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:26am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Yea and what really gets me is that when people post these lyrics, they are just so off.
"Sometimes we ride on white horses, sometimes we smoke a bone, sometimes the bongs that we're near are just bongs of our own." Don't know how many times I've seen that one written wrong.

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Poster: Nothing Special Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:22am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I never listen to Dead lyrics - too busy trying to listen to 5/6 top draw musicians. Some draw me in, Box of Rain and Row Jimmy to name a couple but I`d rather listen to what the boys are playing. However, post what you like for me, if I don`t want to read it I won`t.
Here`s my favourite lyrics ever (non Dead);

We are penguins.
We are penguins.
We are flightless
We are standing on our eggs
In the snow
`Coz we're penguins
And we're standing on the ice floe
Of the antarctic
And it's freezing.

We are penguins.
Only penguins.
We are flightless
We are standing in the snow
Without food.
`Coz we're penguins
It's what we do.
On the ice floe of unknowing.
And it's freezing.

We are penguins.
We are penguins.
We are flightless
And quite amusing.
You can laugh if you want.
`Coz we're penguins
And we're standing in the space
That you have left us
And it's freezing.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:34am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Written by?
Performed by?

Why do you like them so much?

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Poster: L.A. Women Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:40am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Cause I'm the High Plains Drifter,
And I'm a drifter
The Hight Plains Drifter,
And I'm a drifter
They can't catch me never gonna find me
They're never gonna know that I'm the High Plains Drifter

Pulled over to the river to take a rest
Pulled out a pair of pliers and pulled the bullet out of my chest
Fear and loathing across the country listening to my 8 track
I Reached behind the seat and grabbed a Kool from the pack
Long distance from my girl and I'm talking on the cellular
She said that she was sorry and I said yeah the hell you were
Check my rear view mirror check the gold tooth display
Check out the odometer and I was on my way
Cause I'm a high plains drifter the best that you can get
A strapped shoplifter a pirate on cassette
Bust a Travis Bickle when I feel that I'm getting pushed
Don't step to me or you're gonna get mushed
I'm Doing 120 plowing over mail boxes
Radar detector to tell me where the cops is
Spend another night at the Motel 6
It's five dollars extra get the porno flicks
Concoct a black and tan in my brandy snifter
I'm a kleptomaniac K-Mart shoplifter
Cash flow getting low so I had to pull a job
I found a nice place to visit but a better place to rob
I left my car outside and the engine still revvin'
Time to get busy at 7-Eleven
Then I went inside to make my withdrawal
I saw what he had had but I had to take it all

Knucklehead deli tried to gyp me on the price
So I clocked him off the turban with the bag of ice
Cause I'm mellow like Jell-O cool like lemonade
I made my getaway and I thought that I had it made
I feel like Steve McQueen a former movie star
Look in my rearview mirror seen a police car
Ballantine quarts with the puzzle on the cap
I couldn't help but notice I was caught in a speed trap
Dirty Mary Crazy Larry on the run from Dirty Harry
Stash the cash in the dash but my gun I did carry
I'm seeing blue and red flashing deep in the night
I got my alibi straight and I pulled over to the right
Cop knocked on my window and said Boy where's the fire
you've got a mailbox on your bumper and a bald front tire
Outta the car longhair your goose is cooked
Read me my rights fingerprinted and booked
Makin' like a D.T. driving a Gran Fury
Wherever I hang my hat's my home and my past is kind of blurry
Every dog will have its day and mine will be in front of a jury
I'm the High Plains Drifter and I'm never in a hurry
Read me my rights as if I didn't know this
Threw me in the tank with the drunk called Otis
With his five o' clock shadow he smelled of 3-day old beer
My man turned to me and said why are you here?
I said I'm charming and dashing I'm rental car bashing
Phony paper passing at Nix Check Cashing
I went before the judge he sent me to the Brooklyn House of D.
He said you behave son or we'll throw away the key
Harry Houdini'd out the cuffs I kicked the screw in the knee
Took the bailiff's wallet and went straight to O.T.B.
I had a good feeling easy come easy go
I bet on one horse to win and another to show
And sure enough that knak came in
Brought my ticket to the window and collected my win
Broke into my new car with a wire coat hanger
Hot wired hot wheeled and Suzy is a headbanger

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:49am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

A great, great album.

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Poster: Nothing Special Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:36am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Sorry.
Written By Pat Fish
Performed by The Jazz Butcher Conspiracy
From The Album "Waiting For The Love Bus"

I love them because they are so simple and so true and at the same time so completely daft. That appeals to me.

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Poster: jglynn1.2 Date: Dec 11, 2007 1:03pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

You should check out Jonathan Richman. He's got lots of great simple songs.

"I'm a Little Dinosaur"
"Ice Cream Man"
"Dodge Vegematic"
and hundreds more

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Poster: rastamon Date: Jan 2, 2008 11:17am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

so i checked out Jonathan Richman and came up with this...
tooo funny! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg7WG6tCbrw

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Poster: AshesRising Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:45am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

robthewordsmith: ...thanks for your insight -- that is something that never crossed my mind:
"Posting a whole song sometimes smacks of presenting the scripture for the day. As if we’re all going to sit down quietly and read it reverently and ponder its meaning." == If you knew me, you would know I never intend to proselytize ...it's a hypocrite's weapon of choice.

I will never figure out how to communicate properly within the walls of the digital world. A spiral notebook and a pen is the world within which I exist. Your articulate response provides me with me some great feedback.

I appreciate your taking the time to respond without adding a personal attack.

Sincerely,
--- AshesRising

This post was modified by AshesRising on 2007-12-11 14:45:46

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:03am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Ashes – I’m glad you realised that I wasn’t having a go at you personally. You do very well at communicating here – you use words like playthings – and I’d personally never skip over one of your posts. It’s always worth taking the time to see what you have to say. Don’t let anything I say stop you from doing what you want to do however you want to do it!

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Poster: Death&Mercy Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:53am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

hi Ashes,

I understand your reasons for posting full lyrics to songs; I think most do. you are a very kind soul - you do everything for the benefit of others, nothing for your own ego.

Ashes, it's people like you who keep this place going. please keep doing what you do.

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Poster: Cliff Hucker Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:28am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Rob, I'm not sure why its cool with you when the forum turns into a chat room, but posting Grateful dead Song lyrics is a no-no?

You flamed me and others for fighting with trolls, please, its not your place decide what goes here, we have been through this already, ad nauseum.

Peace!

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:37am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Peace to you too, Brother Hucker!

Mea culpa when it comes to treating the place as chatroom – absolutely guilty as charged and likely to repeat offend, yer honor. However, you have frequently pointed out that this place was originally intended as somewhere like-minded souls could discuss the Grateful Dead and related matters. See my post in that light if you will – I’m putting this up for discussion, not trying to decide what’s right and wrong around here. As you rightly point out, that is not my place. Posting up Grateful Dead song lyrics is far from being a no no, I’m just suggesting that putting up whole song lyrics without comment does little to further discussion. I’m all in favour of someone saying, ‘Let’s look at Wharf Rat – have you thought that the words might mean this…?’ And then illustrating their ideas with a few well chosen examples. And as I said, anyone that wants to look at the whole song can do so very easily.

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Poster: Cliff Hucker Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:12am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Well I've made no secret of my belief that LMA is a place for serious discussion of the Grateful Dead and their music, as well as my disdain for salutatory chit-chat and completely non-related posts. However, I have come to realise that such a forum would probably not be worth visiting as it is this informal interaction between the participants here that gives this place its heart and soul, for better and worse...

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Poster: direwolf0701 Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:38am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

you are NOT alone

i cant stand it either

(you mean I am in agreement with Tito on something other than the patriots???? time to grab my skis and head to hell)

:)

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:42am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: an aside to Dire

Hey man, never really thought about this until you mentioned it there - but is your leg sound enough for you to get back on the slopes? Great news for you if it is!

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Poster: direwolf0701 Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:51am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: an aside to Dire

to be hones - i missed my appointment with the orthopedic due to being in detox. i'll be gettting another appt soon. However, i highly doubt i'll be hitting the slopes this year due to the severity of the injury.

thanks for asking though my brother.

p.s. the guitar festival show you tossed across the pond is excellent!!!! thanks so much

(let me know if you are looking for anything.)

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:17pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.


All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horrible-whiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white back-garden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at the green of their eyes. The wise cats never appeared.

We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs. Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder.
"Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.

And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room.

Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke with a slipper.

"Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong.
"There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas."
There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting.
"Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
"Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires."

But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, "Would you like anything to read?"

Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea."

"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."

"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells."
"You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?"
"I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them."
"I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells."
"There were church bells, too."
"Inside them?"
"No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for Christmas, on our fence."

"Get back to the postmen"
"They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...."
"Ours has got a black knocker...."
"And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot like small boys wanting to go out."
"And then the presents?"
"And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs.
"He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone."

"Get back to the Presents."
"There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."


"Go on the Useless Presents."
"Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."

"Were there Uncles like in our house?"
"There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the high-heaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."

Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking, down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars. Then I would be slap-dashing home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.

I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink, put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled windows, the whole length of the white echoing street. For dinner we had turkey and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse, whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick. Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and, when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.


Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements.
"I bet people will think there's been hippos."
"What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?"
"I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail."
"What would you do if you saw two hippos?"

Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house.
"Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box."
"Let's write things in the snow."
"Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn."
Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?"

The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the whirling bay. And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced her tea with rum, because it was only once a year.

Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter ticked. And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case, and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached the black bulk of the house. "What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?"
"No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together, near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ... And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the town.
"Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said. "
Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading.
"Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.

Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.

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Poster: high flow Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:24pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics




Alice's Restaurant
By Arlo Guthrie


This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the
restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant,
that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's
Restaurant.

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on
Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the
restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the
church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and
Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of
room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Havin' all that room,
seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't
have to take out their garbage for a long time.

We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be
a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump. So
we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW
microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed
on toward the city dump.

Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the
dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump
closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off
into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.

We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the
side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the
cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile
is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we
decided to throw our's down.

That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving
dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the
next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie. He said, "Kid,
we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of
garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And
I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope
under that garbage."

After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we
finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down
and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the
police officer's station. So we got in the red VW microbus with the
shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the
police officer's station.

Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at
the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for
being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and
we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out
and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again,
which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station
there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was
both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I
can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid.
Get in the back of the patrol car."

And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the
quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of
Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop
signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the
Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars,
being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to
get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of
cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station.
They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and
they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each
one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach,
the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to
mention the aerial photography.

After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put
us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your
wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my
wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you
want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I
said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?"
Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the
toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took
out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the
toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie
was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice
(remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few
nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back
to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat,
and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.

We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back
of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up,
and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he
sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the
twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows
and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog.
And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry,
'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American
blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the
judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each
one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And
we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not
what I came to tell you about.

Came to talk about the draft.

They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street,
where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected,
neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one
day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so
I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to
look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted
to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York,
and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all
kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave
me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."

And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I
wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and
guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill,
KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and
he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down
yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me,
sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."

Didn't feel too good about it.

Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections,
detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me
at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four
hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty
ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was
inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no
part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the
last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there,
and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got
one question. Have you ever been arrested?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre,
with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all
the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever
go to court?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten
colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on
the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want
you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"

And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's
where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after
committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly
looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father
rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And
they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the
bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest
father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly
'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me
and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay
$50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?"
And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench
there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I
said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand,
and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing,
father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the
bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of
things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it
up and said.

"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna-
know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-
you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting-
officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for
forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had
fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there,
and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it
down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the
pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the
other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on
the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the
following words:

("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?")

I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to
ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm
sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench
'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women,
kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and
said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints
off to Washington."

And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a
study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm
singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar
situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a
situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into
the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get
anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if
one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and
they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony,
they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.
And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in
singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an
organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said
fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and
walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement.

And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and
all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the
guitar.

With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and
sing it when it does. Here it comes.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

That was horrible. If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud.
I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it
for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired.

So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part
harmony and feeling.

We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing.

All right now.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

So come on, I am in the middle of a huge snafu here--are you for it or against it? Sarcasm does me no good...that goes for you too, Lou.

On the other hand, if these examples are in support of my cause, welcome aboard, boys, welcome.

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:47pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I have no opinion--I just really like Dylan Thomas, and I wanted to see how long we could make this thread.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

How about seeing how long you can make this thread by saying something of substance in your own words? Or is that too much like hard work?

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:41pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

OK. Since I'm not at home and don't have time to really stop and post deep analytical thoughts (and don't have a multi-volume copy of the OED next to me) as I actually frequent this site in between assignments at work [that place where I earn a paycheck as opposed to here] in order to stream more music and see what latest nonsense is occuring, to which I readily acknolwedge that I help create (because I've learned lately from the good kind "bros" on here that I'm really the lazy, self-righteous asshole I had always assumed I was) I will post something of value. It's short and pithy, but Ducats said it best:
Blow me (lyrics and aristt are posted elsewhere).

Since others have nomimated various posters for various titles, I hereby nominate you as Headmaster of the Forum.

I'll battle with Dire for forum asshole (but I just may win).

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:54pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

"Headmaster of the Forum"? Ok, since you lack the time to ponder a detailed response let me just say this:

Fuck off.


:-)

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:19pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

That made me laugh! And I admit to being lazy - just don't let me post when drunk late on the weekend as opposed to harried and at the office.

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Poster: high flow Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:42pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Follow The LeaderVerse one:

Follow me into a solo
Get in the flow - and you can picture like a photo
Music mixed mellow maintains to make
Melodies for mc’s motivates the breaks
I’m everlastin, I can go on for days and days
With rhyme displays that engrave deep as x-rays
I can take a phrase that’s rarely heard, flip it
Now it’s a daily word
I can get iller than ’nam, a killin bomb
But no alarm - rakim will remain calm
Self-esteem make me super superb and supreme
But for a microphone still I fiend
This was a tape I wasn’t supposed to break
I was supposed to wait, but let’s motivate
I want to see who can keep followin and swallowin
Takin the making, bitin it and borrowin
Brothers tried and others died to get the formula
But i’ma let ya sweat - you still ain’t warm
You a step away from frozen, stiff as if ya posin
Dig into my brain as the rhyme gets chosen
So follow me and were ya thinkin’ you were first?
Let’s travel at magnificent speeds around the universe
What could ya say as the earth gets further and further away
Planets are small as balls of clay
Astray into the milky way - world’s outasight
Far as the eye can see - not even a satellite
Now stop and turn around and look
As ya stare in the darkness, ya knowledge is took!
So keep starin soon ya suddenly see a star
You better follow it cause it’s the r
This is a lesson if ya guessin and if ya borrowin
Hurry hurry step right up and keep followin
The leader

Verse two:

This is a lifetime mission, vision of prison
Aight listen
In this journey you’re the journal I’m the journalist
Am I eternal? or an eternalist?
I’m about to flow long as I can possibly go
Keep ya movin cause the crowd said so
Dance - cuts rip ya pants
Eric b on the blades, bleedin to death - call the ambulance
Pull out my weapon and start to squeeze
A magnum as a microphone murderin’ mc’s
Let’s quote a rhyme from a record I wrote
(follow the leader) yeah - dope
Cause everytime I stop it seems ya stuck
Soon as ya try to step off ya self-destruct
I came to overcome before I’m gone
By showin and provin and lettin knowledge be born
Then after that I’ll live forever - you disagree?
You say never? then follow me!
From century to century you’ll remember me
In history - not a mystery or a memory
God by nature, mind raised in asia
Since you was tricked, I have to raise ya
From the cradle to the grave, but remember
You’re not a slave
Cause we was put here to be much more than that
But we couldn’t see it because our mind was trapped
But I’m here to break away the chains, take away the pains
Remake the brains, reveal my name
I guess nobody told you a little knowledge is dangerous
It can’t be mixed, diluted; it can’t be changed or switched
Here’s a lesson if ya guessing and borrowing
Hurry hurry, step right up and keep following
The leader

Verse three:

A furified freestyle, lyrics of fury
My third eye makes me shine like jewelry
You’re just a rent-a-rapper, your rhymes are minute-maid
I’ll be here when it fade to watch you flip like a renegade
I can’t wait to break and eliminate
On every traitor or snake - so stay awake
And follow and follow, because the tempo’s a trail
The stage is a cage, the mic is a third rail
I’m rakim the fiend of a microphone
I’m not him, so leave my mic alone
Soon as the beat is felt, I’m ready to go
So fasten your seatbelt, cause I’m about to flow
No need to speed slow down to let the leader lead
Word to daddy, indeed!
The r’s a rollin stone, so I’m rollin
Directions is told, then the rhymes are stolen
Stop buggin’, a brother said, dig em, I never dug ’em
He couldn’t follow the leader long enough so I drug ’em
Into danger zone, he should arrange his own
Face it, it’s basic, erase it, change ya tone
There’s one r in the alphabet
It’s a one-letter word and it’s about to get
More complex from one rhyme to the next
Eric b be easy on the flex
I’ve been from state to state, followers tailgate
Keep comin but you came too late, but I’ll wait
So back up, regroup, get a grip, come equipped
You’re the next contestant - clap ya hands, you won a trip!
The price is right - don’t make a deal too soon
How many notes could you name this tune?
Follow the leader is the title, theme, task
Now ya know, you don’t have to ask
Rap is rhythm and poetry, cuts create sound effects
You might catch up if you follow the records e. wrecks
Until then keep eatin and swallowin
You better take a deep breath and keep followin
The leader.
Follow The Leader

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:46pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I'm not bothering to read that. So wasn't that pointless?

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Poster: high flow Date: Dec 11, 2007 5:02pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I didn't post it for you...you don't care for such posts. This is for all of us who revolve around you. So actually it was rather pointy.

This post was modified by high flow on 2007-12-12 01:02:24

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 5:02pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Ah but you posted in reply to one of my posts. Careful where you click, brother flow. Spin on!

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Poster: high flow Date: Dec 11, 2007 5:06pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Sorry, just happened to be the last in the thread. Go to bed man!:)

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 5:10pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Most sensible suggestion I've seen all day. It's one o'clock in the morning here. Goodnight, high flow!

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:55pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I'm for it - but admit that I did not read every word in Alice's Restaurant. BTW, check out Sarah Lee (his daughter) and Johny Irion. Some shows on Archive with Kevn Kinney.

Here's a song I wish the boys had covered - would have made a nice first set closer; or maybe out of drums:

aha
aha
aha

What you will and what you won't
What you do and what you don't
What you can and what you can't
This is what you need to know:
Loved you though it didn't show

Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, da da da

da da da
da da da
da da da

Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me

(whispered)
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht.

I know why you ran away, aha
Understand you couldn't stay, aha
Wonder where you are today, aha
After all was said and done
It was right for you to run!

Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, aha
Ich lieb' dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht, da da da

da da da
da da da
da da da

Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me
Da da da I don't love you you don't love me

da da da (repeat to fade)

Never knew same was produced by Klaus Voorman until recently. Where is Stu Sutcliff?

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Poster: jglynn1.2 Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:05pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Jonathan Richman And The Modern Lovers - Hospital

When you get out of the hospital
Let me back into your life
I can't stand what you do
I'm in love with your eyes

And when you get out of the dating bar
I'll be here to get back into your life
I can't stand what you do
I'm in love with your eyes

I can't stand what you do
Sometimes I can't stand you
It makes me think about me
That I'm involved with you

...But I'm in love with this power that shows through in your eyes

I go to bakeries all day long
There's a lack of sweetness in my life
And there's pain inside
You can see it in my eyes

There is pain inside
You can see it in my eyes
It makes me think about me
That I've lost my pride

...But I'm in love with this power that resides in your eyes

You live in modern apartments
Well I've even got scared once or twice
Last time I walked down your street
There were tears in my eyes

Well now these streets we all know
They help us cry when we're alone late at night
Don't you love them too?
Is that where you got your eyes?

Oh I can't stand what you do
Sometimes I can't stand you
It makes me think about me
How I'm involved with you

...But I'm in love with this power that shows through in your eyes

Your world---it is beautiful
I'll take the subway to your suburb sometimes
I'll seek out the things that must've been magic to you little girl mind

Now as a little girl you must've been magic
I still get jealous of your old boyfriends in the suburbs sometimes
And when I walk down your street
There'll probably be tears in my eyes

(I knew it would happen)

I can't stand what you do
Sometimes I can't stand you
It makes me think about me
That I'm involved with you

...But I'm in love with this power that shows through in your eyes

So when you get out of the hospital
Let me back into your life
I can't stand what you do
But I'm in love with your eyes


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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:45pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Funnily enough I was listening to that song earlier today. Enjoyed it too. Still doesn't make posting up the whole lyric any the less pointless.

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:53pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Okay, I'm willing to admit that until now I've completely missed the deep and subtle irony of rob's calling the posting of entire song lyrics "pointless". I see it now--"pointless"! That's as opposed to all of the thoughtful, high-minded, earthshaking discussion that fills the rest of the threads on this forum. Very clever, rob, but too subtle for me--at least at first! :)

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Poster: high flow Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:05pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I like lyrics.:)

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:09pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

http://www.songlyrics.com
http://www.elyrics.net
http://www.lyricsmode.com
http://lyrics.astraweb.com
http://www.lyricsfreak.com
http://www.lyricsdownload.com


Knock yourself out, brother flow!

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Poster: skuzzlebutt Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:56am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I personally don't care if people post whole lyrics or not, but I definitely skip them. I find even the most well crafted lyrics- yes, even Dylan's or Hunter's - to be static and dull without musical accompaniment. I guess I just find listening to a song preferable to reading one.

Like everything else here, you don't have to read them if you don't want to.

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Poster: Tito&Smokey Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:22am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

You can post certain phrases of the song...maybe a favorite part such as
"jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule"

but not the whole fucking song

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:03am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

This is for you Tito:

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place

Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn

Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees"
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him"
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man?"
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

I apologize for all you Dylanologists that immediately caught Tito's reference. I for one thought of Charlie Watts on the cover of Get Your Ya Yas Out.

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Poster: abilene22 Date: Dec 11, 2007 1:07pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

wince, cringe

my ex is named Johanna

shudder

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 9:18am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Ok - so was it really necessary to post up the whole damn song to make the point? Wouldn't "yeah, yeah, Visions of Johanna, Tito..." have done the job just as well? What does putting the whole thing up prove?

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:33am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Error...music site bans songs...

Shock and dismay. The posts by Ashes and Arbuthnot on exactly this sort of thing is what drew me here over a year ago. Well, for Arb it is often just straight up poetry.

I will have to politely disagree. Most strongly. Compared to 55% of what I read here, I would gladly look over R Hunter, yet again, almost every time.

I thought the little sequence in which folks posted songs in response to my original post of a song was probably the best thread I had read in a long time. Look over it again--the words folks select to go with their songs are especially significant.

One man's view anyhow.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 7:56am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Error...music site bans songs...

Will – I had no wish to cause you shock and dismay – but I do love the way you most strongly politely disagree!

Your change of heading there is a bit unfair - who mentioned banning songs? I’d never want to stop you from reading Hunter’s or anybody else’s lyrics. It’s wonderful that you can go back to them again and again and probably get something new each time. So why not share more of your insights? If you listened to/read China Cat Sunflower today and suddenly thought ‘hang on – I never saw it that way before…’ then tell us! It’s great to talk about the songs and what they mean.

By the way, do you reckon the percentage is that high?

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:00am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Error...music site bans lyrics; music still okay...

Yeah, it was originally 98% but thought that I would back off a bit to avoid hurting anyone's feelings. And, you are write about the subject--changed it below for accuracy. But, the irony did strike me--a band site for fanatics that would limit the posting on the most important aspect of the song, to me, the lyrics. To me it would be like a Shakespeare group that only discussed the "performances" rather than the literature behind them...does that make sense? Probably also relates to my lame abilities as a writer--always found that others could put it so much better than me and that those ready made word streams conveyed my sentiments in so many contexts. Used to do it all the time in letters; just my own limitation I suppose.

But, it appears you were write about it all in any event, and I will have to eat crow since most agree with you as to the appeal of a nice chunk of lyrics.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:25am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Music AND lyrics still ok - nothing banned around here, folks

Gadzooks indeed, aged freedom fighter! I’m not for ‘banning lyrics’ either – and I don’t for the life of me see how you can think that I am. I just, personally, don’t like them in great big indigestible chunks. Post all you damn well please concerning the lyrics. Tell me what you think they mean, or how they make you feel but don’t just put up a whole song with no analysis and think ‘job done – they’ll all know exactly what I mean’.

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 2:37pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Just strongly discouraged...?

Wait a minute--is it okay or not? The more I thought on it this day, the more it stuck in my craw. Lyrics, suitably shortened, with appropriate insights, are okay.

Is that really what it has come to around here? Of course folks skip 99% of what most of us write. I just don't like the prescription approach to what is and what isn't allowed...

Sorry, man--but have to revise my earlier "tolerance approach" to this issue...

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Poster: Sainted Stephen Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:58pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Just strongly discouraged...?

I will agree with you Mr William Tell. Why not get rid of the football sports posts? And all the pictures everyone posts? How is that more important than the song lyrics??? I cannot imagine how this place would be improved by removing the song writers. But, back to lurking.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 4:17pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Just strongly discouraged...?

You might as well stay lurking if all you can come up with is this sort of inanity. I'm not advocating getting rid of the song lyrics or removing the song writers. What kind of idiocy is that? I'm asking for more comment on them. Post what the fuck you like - but give some point to it. Cutting and pasting someone else's words is just lazy.

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 3:58pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Freedom of expression strongly discouraged...?

Ok – so you’re revising your ‘tolerance approach’ are you? What does that mean exactly? That you won’t tolerate any dissension from your position? Who exactly is being ’prescriptive’ around here? Not me, that’s for sure. I simply expressed an opinion, you, as is your right, simply disagreed with it. And that’s fine. Or it should be. But suddenly you come out with this crap about ‘what is and isn’t allowed’. Frankly, just about EVERYTHING is allowed. However, neither you nor I nor anyone else is under any under any obligation to agree with, support or like any of it. Post your songs if you want to – no one is trying to stop you. It’s not prescription, Tell. It’s comment.

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Poster: William Tell Date: Dec 11, 2007 6:53pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Freedom of expression strongly discouraged...?

Well, I suppose you are right--I took it as a suggestion. If I was wrong, sorry. But, among friends, strong comments can and should have consequences. Having read what some others said, I suppose I was expecting a modicum of understanding as to why folks post lyrics, but that's not what comes thru in reading your posts. Your comments come off as righteous and unyielding, and in my view, given what goes for posting around here, just a bit over the top...to turn it around and say I was the one at fault--that I am proposing you cannot express yourself is, and of course you know this, silly.

To be absolutely clear: My oversimplisitc interpretation of your posts are as follows: people that post lyrics are lazy and wasting my time, arrogantly prescribing this or that (whatever the song suggests). Since I post lyrics almost every week, I can only assume this applies to me.

Okay--over reacted and probably misperceived the slight, but that was why it bothered me...of course you have the right to cry foul on what you like and don't like, but the explanation behind your likes and dislikes matters to me, and the degree to which I fail in those respects is in some small way what whatever our "relationship" in this strange place derives from.

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Poster: tank_tuba Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:31am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

I don't think I'm anyone to complain about inane posts.
For me, as soon as I see it's lyrics with no title or performer, I backspace out.
The song lyrics really don't do much for me. That's just how I feel though. I'm sure lots of people just backspace out of my posts also.

Case in point; the first reply is a Zappa song about assholes. Complete with lyrics. Go figure.

Edit: I just read that Tito doesn't like lyrics posted. POST AWAY WITH LYRICS!!! POST AWAY WITH LYRICS!!! POST AWAY WITH LYRICS!!! POST AWAY WITH LYRICS!!! POST AWAY WITH LYRICS!!!

This post was modified by average_joe on 2007-12-11 18:31:57

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Dec 11, 2007 10:40am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

For Tito (Joe - sent Phil book to SDH this a.m; thanks again):

Blow Me
(Stevens/Grenga)
Red Peters with The Babe Marino Orchestra
(featuring The Alan Pinchloaf Singers)
(whispered)
"This is very special...
Hi Dick... Bob.
... pretty good thanks."

(sung)
Blow me
You hardly even know me
just set yourself below me
and blow me... tonite.

a handy
would certainly be dandy
but it's not enough to slow me
you gotta blow me... allright.

when you part your lips that way
ooo... I want you night and day
when you squeeze my balls so tight
I wanna blow my load with all my might!!

so blow me
you hardly even know me
just set yourself below
you gotta blow me tonite

"Come on everybody!!!" (whole audience joins in)

Blow me
You hardly even know me
so blow me
you gotta blow me
so blow me
Blow me tonite!

(with apologies to ducat as they probably mean more to him than me)


This post was modified by bluedevil on 2007-12-11 18:40:18

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Poster: tank_tuba Date: Dec 11, 2007 12:18pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

That's sweet. It would be nice to keep that book travelling around.

Nice lyrics. They reminded me of Dr. Evil. "There's nothing quite like a freshly shorn scrotum."

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Poster: Jerrob Hungar Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:52am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Rob.
I understand and respect your point of view. If the concensus opinion is against posting lyrics, I will cease and desist from posting whole song lyrics, forthwith. I have been guilty of posting lyrics to illustrate a point or to articulate my view in a much more elegant fashion than I possibly could. Usually, when I don't post a comment with the lyric, its because I thought the lyric spoke for itself. I know it doesn't always work, but I carried on regardless in the thought that, at least, a well written, meaningful lyric went a little way to balancing the mindless posts.
I enjoy poetry and, to me, some song lyrics are poetry, so I'm afraid I would have to accede to those, who wish to post a lyric because they deem it to have value.
Case in point; Lazy Lightning, I'd always regarded it as a trippy pop song about unrequited love, but because AshesRising posted the words, I was interested to read them to see if I was missing something. Yesterday, I posted the lyric for John Lennon's Help because I thought it was the first lysergically inspired pop song to address the inner...shut up alan...ok boss...
Actually, you are right Rob. Its a lazy way of communicating a point of view and in future, I vow to endeavour to persevere.
:¬)

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Poster: robthewordsmith Date: Dec 11, 2007 8:58am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Posting whole song lyrics

Alan - I'm just going to say this: the thing about a meaningful lyric is that it means different things to different people and even different things to the same person at different times. That's why I'd like to know what you intended by posting up the lyrics of a song. If the song has value to you tell me why, because I might not see it. I think I'm pretty far from trying to stop people posting about songs, on the contrary I think I'm encouraging it.

Discs in the post today by the way so I hope you get them soon. Let me know if they're ok - I didn't have time to do a proper quality check.